Pride – In the Name of Love
“Shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does.” “How Soon is Now” – The Smiths
Reminders are funny things.
They can be the source of great happiness, interminable sadness, and a guidepost for personal growth and development.
The arrival of Pride Month each June is a personal reminder of how perspectives can change, and one can grow and mature.
I like to think of myself as an open-minded person.
I wish I could say I have always been that way.
But I can’t.
One prejudice I held onto tightly was against members of the LGBTQIA+ community.
I wasn’t violent or verbally abusive, yet I held prejudice in my heart towards this community.
Like most prejudiced people, I wouldn’t have considered myself a bigot.
I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a hateful person.
Regardless, I did what all prejudiced people do to the objects of their prejudice.
I “othered” them.
I separated myself from them.
They were aberrations
Lesser beings.
I can’t tell you how I squared those feelings with my faith.
I also can’t tell you how people of faith hate me because I’m Black.
The beginning of my evolution away from prejudice began in high school
During that time, I had a friend I’ll call William.
William wasn’t loud or boisterous.
He was not demonstrative.
But he was different.
Different enough that everyone thought he was gay.
On one hand, he didn’t seem to care what people thought about him.
On the other hand, he would regale me with stories about drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
We had classes together, talked a lot, and studied together in the library.
He wasn’t my best friend, but he was a close friend.
Eventually, he graduated and attended my alma mater, Georgia State University.
We remained connected after high school, and gradually, I saw a change in his behavior.
He became happier and more content.
At last, he was comfortable in his skin.
During a phone conversation, he got up the courage to come out.
He told me he was bisexual.
He said enough for me to gain a greater understanding of him and other gay people.
In high school, he was closeted. He couldn’t be himself.
But at GSU, there was a Gay Student Union. There were many students who were out and free.
Free to be themselves, many of them for the first time.
They didn’t have to hide or torture themselves by pretending.
William felt free and lived freely.
For the first time, someone I knew and cared about was gay.
The abstract became concrete.
The theoretical became personal.
I wish I could say that knowing William caused me to stop being a bigot.
Knowing him started me toward the end of my prejudice.
As time passed, I became older and got to know more members of the LGBTQIA+ community.
I no longer saw them as different.
No longer saw them as something “other.”
I saw them as human.
William passed away years ago, but the lessons learned from him remain.
I look at Pride Month the same way I do Black History Month.
Neither should be limited to a month.
I know and love many members of the LGBTQIA+ community.
If I can learn, others can learn.
If I can grow in compassion and understanding, others can too.
In the name of love, all of us must find a way.